


how to make collage art in photoshop

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020, M/M, POV Second Person, Photoshop, Symbolism, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Konoha Akinori captures the concept of unrequited love in a short photoshop tutorial.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Konoha Akinori
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	how to make collage art in photoshop

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on writing but I wanted to explore how I could put these two things together (aka angst and, well, faulty programs).
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this!

****I will never be able to wash or peel any of this away.  
** \- Nikky Finey, The Aureole **

\----

You first choose a blank canvas, where you’ll put everything. Your ideas, dreams, aspirations, everything will be thrown in, no exceptions. It begins when you’re young. You’re kind, talented. You make people laugh, a trademark until you grow old and gray. You are a friend, choosing to offer the world to them in exchange for a sliver of care. It’s fine, you say and smile.

Everything begins with white, but you can color it afterwards. Fill it with black, gold, white, anything. You begin studying in a prestigious school, with a gray uniform, blue necktie. You comb your hair, you study enough. You’re a good student. You discover later on you’re a great player too. You can spike, receive, throw in a set or two. All-around good guy, they say. You never lose your temper, unlike the boy with black and white hair. You comfort him, you say it’s alright. You help him (to a certain extent). You become friends. He becomes talented, he can spike harder, and harder. You’ll do your best, but you know you’re no match for him.

Next, you choose your subject. It can be an animal, a character. It comes in the form of beauty, you realize. Black hair, spikes pointing at sides, hooded eyes, tall, setter, first year. You smile at the scene, at his sheepish demeanor, formal and unforgiving. He sees you, bows, and begins practicing. He catches your attention every single time. His form is exquisite, nothing like you’ve ever seen. His movements remain fluid, unassuming. You remain intrigued.

To remove the subject’s background and for it to fit the picture you want to make, you’ll use the pen tool and create a path. You’ll trace his outline, beginning from his right foot, all the way to his legs, his waist, slender fingers, pale arms, broad shoulders, neck, head, until you reach the other side. Throughout the years, you’ll see him change, grow into a respectable, worthy player, instilling fear and caution to opponents. But most of all, you see how he grows on you. You’ll simply hope that he’ll catch on the fact that your eyes are only on him. You approach him sometimes, telling him he has no obligation to help your friend in his sets. He says he doesn’t mind. You’ll think that he’s just like you, friendly, and will do everything for his friends. And he does (to a certain extent). You see him getting closer and closer with your friend, with his hair standing tall and proud. Sometimes in dark days, you’ll think its mocking you, how you have nothing and he has everything. You should’ve known this from the first time he laid eyes on your friend. You’ll notice how his eyes turn gloomy when it shifts to you, his eyes that originally showed shining gunmetal blue when he looks somewhere else. Your path becomes connected and you remove the background. Unbeknownst to you, your friend will be removed too, as he belongs in the background. You do it anyway.

You try to combine pictures to make it more pleasing to the eyes. You combine his and yours. You’ll try. After you graduate high school, you’ll make a move, an invitation to hang out. He obliges. For the first time, your smile is pure and genuine. You joke with your friends, you’re in high spirits. You try to move two pictures together, his and yours. You arrange them, order them to fit the chemistry. It doesn’t seem right. You go on this friendly hang out. He’s in jeans and plain tee and yet he still looks beautiful. You, on the other hand, spent the whole morning looking for a button down polo and some slacks. You have coffee, you see him laugh, his slight giggle. He sometimes fidgets, nervous. Of what? Perhaps it’s because there’s mutual reciprocation. You wish. As it turns out, it is a baseless theory. The motive, truth rather, comes out later in a form of a genuine question. 

“Do you know if he likes anyone?” He asks you. 

Now, you try to rotate pictures, put some gradients, colors, everything to make it seem right. Suddenly, you realize, no matter how hard you try, no matter what effect you’ll use, it just won’t work. And here lies the reason. 

“You like him, don’t you?” You ask, as you hear something from within you, crack. 

He nods, shyly. It cracks again. 

You’re a good friend, you say. You’re a good friend who’ll do anything for him, for your friend, in exchange for their happiness. You tell him the truth, you’re no antagonist. You’re a boy, drunk from misplaced devotion as your subject finds solace in someone else. 

“No, he doesn’t like anybody.” You say. You go on. “I could fix you up with him if you want.” 

You want to stop. “There’s an event in the university, and you can have a date with him.”

You don’t. “You and him will love it, I’m sure.” 

His eyes shine for the first time. “You think so?” He asks, innocently. 

“Yes.” You respond.

When two objects don’t seem right, feel free to remove and start again. You press undo, until your photo is gone, and his remains. You press undo again until you see him with your friend. You stare at the screen and decide that it makes sense. Setter and spiker. Partners for life. You’re a spiker too, you think foolishly. _How did I lose to him?_ But you were never part of their match, anyway. You’re a mere speck in the universe made for Them. You had no place there. You start again. You add minimal details, because it made sense even without much design. Organic, raw, affection that seemed to go both sides. It’s perfect. Don’t ruin it by adding unnecessary subjects.

The event begins and you guide your friend to the crowd, as you both wait for him. He arrives, in a polo and some slacks. You smile, knowing the gesture. Their eyes shine as it follows each other. You bid goodbye, so they enjoy the night. Before you could go any further, he holds onto you, mouths words of gratitude. He’s a friend, you think. You whisper that it’s no problem. He likes you (to a certain extent). You can live with that fact. You have to, otherwise you’ll go mad. 

You finish your collage art. You add more details, slap a gradient, some noise and borders. It looks right. Far from ideal, far from _your_ ideal, but it works. You click save. You click exit. It’s fine, you say, and smile. Away from the crowd, away from watchful eyes, you weep silently.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading a product of errors and some sad juice.


End file.
